Page 115 of Wild Catch
Well, shit. Clearly this guy can’t make a right call to save his life.
I grit my teeth and put my mask back on, crouching to resume play. But the second guy also gets on base, which helps the leadoff steal third. I’m not gonna let them score shit, though. I don’t give a rat’s furry behind that their third batter has a round point-three batting average and one of the highest RBIs in the Riders lineup. The best way I can get us out of this unnecessary pinch is to get this guy out quickly, and the only way I can do that is by letting him hit.
So I signal Starr for an outside curve that the batter can get easily bat toward the centerfield, where Machado will pick it off like it’s child’s play.
It works perfect. The ball makes a clanging sound as it hits the bat and it’s ejected in a fancy trajectory that makes the crowd roar, but as predicted Machado catches it easily and throws to second. That’s an out for the first base runner. Fernandez in second base gets with the program and launches the ball toward me like a cannon.
The beauty of my baseball brain is that I can see everything in slow motion. I see the exact point where the ball takes on an undesired inflection and I know I can’t catch it with one foot on the home plate. Without removing my eyes from the ball, I can see the leadoff batter barreling toward me from third base. I have maybe a microsecond to catch the ball and stretch a limb—any limb—to tag the plate.
The ball hits my glove. I’m off to the left, in the way of the runner. I don’t have enough time to turnandrun. So I leap—like a damn gymnast. I fly in the air like I’m about to do a cartwheel.
And then a freight train T-bones me.
The flight isn’t controlled anymore. Pain explodes on my ribs, but I haven’t lost sight of the plate. I will land on that damn house shaped thing even if I break myself.
“Oof!” Air swishes out of my lungs as I crash on the packed dirt, with two hundred pounds extra on top of me. There’s roaring in my ears and for a second I’m weirded out that this Riders asshole is screaming in my ear.
But then the noise starts making sense. The roaring isn’t coming from the runner but from the crowd. It’s wilder than anything I’ve ever heard in my career so far.
“Out!” the umpire calls.
“What?” The rage finally propels the runner to get off me.
And I can’t move.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Now there’s a different kind of roaring. I blink hard, sweat trickling into my eyes and distorting the most bizarre view a catcher can see through the grill of his mask.
And that is of my pitcher, my infielders, and my outfielders running at the same time. Toward me.
And of even more players pouring into the diamond. From both sides.
The umpires start blowing their whistles, but that’s as effective as trying to bat with a pencil when something like a hundred men are losing their shit on the field.
“Kim! Kim!” I recognize the voice. It’s the head of our med team. Feet appear around my field of vision and people start crouching around me.
“Logan,” Hope’s voice cuts through the others. “Talk to us. What do you feel?”
“Winded,” I say in a wheeze. “Ribs hurt.”
“Can you move?”
“I haven’t tried,” I admit.
“Try now.”
I grit my teeth against the pain. Now the worst spot isn’t my ribs where the Rider’s jerk drove himself into, but my right shoulder. I landed with my right arm extended over me, the ball inside my bare hand tagging the home plate. I almost smile with perverse satisfaction. Turns out I did kinda break myself but still succeeded.
Groaning, I push against my glove to lift myself up. Yeah, it hurts like freaking shit but I can move. My legs bend under me and I manage to sit up. I get a bit lightheaded from just that, but I don’t say a peep. There’s no way I’m getting subbed out in the first damn inning.
“Look into the light, Kim,” the physician says and I comply for all of one second, until a different voice cuts in.
“What a show you’re putting, Kim.” I move the doctor’s hand away so I can turn and look up at Williams. Somehow he has escaped the rioting mass of testosterone to come here, and he’s looking down like he’s on a high horse and this is his chance to step on me. “I assume you want a really good reward from Rose after this, huh? But?—”
I warn, “Watch it?—”
“What can I say?” He gives out a mocking laugh. “She’s not the best I’ve ever had.”
